


all i do is dream of you

by shecouldbeamazing



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Feels, M/M, Post Series 2, Series 3, gingerbread
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:24:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shecouldbeamazing/pseuds/shecouldbeamazing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are often days John finds himself looking back on the good times. He's been doing this a lot more lately. <br/>"Sherlock's dead and I accept it."<br/>He's already spent the better half of three years trying to get back on his feet, trying to get used to a life without Sherlock, trying to get used to being alone and overcoming the nightmares by himself. It's been getting better now. They don't occur as often as before, something John hopes remains the case and, tonight, it isn't. Tonight he dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all i do is dream of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bethanylosch](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bethanylosch).



> i wrote this because of a prompt i saw on tumblr and i decided to just take a crack at it. also, my friend bethany wanted me to write it.

There are often days John finds himself looking back on the good times. He's been doing this a lot more lately.

_"Sherlock's dead and I accept it."_

He's already spent the better half of three years trying to get back on his feet, trying to get used to a life without Sherlock, trying to get used to being alone and overcoming the nightmares by himself. It's been getting better now. They don't occur as often as before, something John hopes remains the case and, tonight, it isn't. Tonight he dreams.

\---

It was Christmas. Lights were strewn around the flat and snow covered the whole of London. The two of them were having a night in and the mere sight of the place made John’s heart lighter. He remembered this night well. Christmas music filled the background as Sherlock played his violin. John was getting out the ingredients for gingerbread in the kitchen, humming along. 

Sherlock walked over to John, his long fingers still playing gracefully away, but his mind was in another place. Images flashed through the dream just then as John gazed at Sherlock, as his hands flitted across the strings so effortlessly, as if they were caressing something cherished and loved, images of strong hands intertwined with his flitted through his mind, of fingers running through his hair, their warmth traveling up and down his back-

He snapped out of it as Sherlock caught him staring, a slight smirk crossing his face.

“What?”

Sherlock stopped playing and gestured towards the mess of ingredients before him.

“Need some help?”

He cleared his throat. “Oh, um. Sure. It might take a while though. We have to get the dough ready and put it in the freezer for an hour and-”

“Better with two.” Sherlock interrupted, setting the violin down on the couch in the other room. John smiled to himself before throwing the instructions at Sherlock. Sherlock skimmed the list once before tossing it aside.

“Doesn’t look too difficult.”

John grabbed the list. “Have you ever made this before?”

“Does it matter? Throw me the sugar.”

\--

Sherlock decided to fix the frosting while John worked on the actual cookies. Sherlock tossed the lemon juice and the egg whites all together expertly, throwing an arrogant smile at John every now and then, showing John that he _absolutely_ knew what he was doing. It was when he poured all of the confectioners’ sugar in the mixer that John gave a start.

_“Sherlock!_ Don’t-“

He pressed ‘mix’ and the entirety of the powdered sugar mix blew up in Sherlock’s face. Coughing and spluttering, eyes full of white dust, Sherlock cursed loudly. John snorted and came over, turning off the mixer.

None too enthused, Sherlock stared daggers at John as he continued to laugh.

\--

“Who is that supposed to be?” Sherlock questioned, hours later, the cookies having been baked and cooled. John had to make a trip to Tesco’s and buy more sugar; the frosting now was done, no thanks to Sherlock. He’d resigned to help decorate the cookies, since that was the only thing John allowed him to do.

“You.” John answered brightly, as he continued to finish the gingerbread Sherlock’s face with a frown and angrily slanted eyebrows.

“I don’t look like that.” Sherlock said indignantly.

“Oh, I beg to differ. See, you’re making that face right now.” John remarked. Sherlock changed his expression defiantly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t.”

Sherlock gave him a beady eyed glance and before John knew it, he felt sticky frosting make contact with his face.

“You bloody-,” John grabbed frosting and wiped it across Sherlock’s forehead, part of it getting stuck in his brow. Sherlock laughed and went to return the favor, but John grabbed his arm, wrestling him away from the frosting. “Oh no you don’t. Get off! If you get it on my sweater, I’ll bloody kill you, Sherlock-,”

The pair went at it for about 10 minutes before they stopped in bouts of laughter, tears threatening to fall from their eyes. They’d run out of frosting.

\--

They spent the rest of the night decorating the Christmas tree, something the two of them made a tradition out of doing on Christmas night. Just the two of them, throwing strings of popcorn onto the tree and lines of lights all around. Sherlock nibbled on some leftover popcorn as he stared at their finished work, baubles of ornaments and lights- they wouldn’t take it down until new year’s.

“Not bad,” John said after biting off a leg of Sherlock’s gingerbread counterpart.

“Are they?”

John broke off a piece of gingerbread and offered it to Sherlock. He looked down at John and bent forward, mouth open. Popping the piece into his mouth, John nearly shuddered feeling Sherlock’s warm breath on his hand. Still looking directly at John, Sherlock hummed and gave a small smile.

“Surprisingly good.”

John gave a laugh. “Surprisingly? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Sherlock wandered over to the kitchen archway and leaned against it after snatching the cookie from his hands.

“Oi!” John followed him and tried to grab it back. “I worked hard on that!”

Sherlock merely chuckled and ate the rest of it. Without saying a word, Sherlock pulled John towards him, and lowered his lips to John’s. Slightly surprised, John froze for half a second before melting into the kiss. He tasted of frosting, and popcorn. Sweet and bitter, how fitting, John thought. His heart pounded in his chest as Sherlock held John’s face between his hands. All he could think of was how tenderly he was touching him. All too soon, Sherlock pulled away, wiping a bit of frosting from the corner of John’s mouth.

“What was that for?” John asked, breathless.

Sherlock looked upwards. “Mistletoe.”

John rolled his eyes and pulled him in for another kiss. Forgetting the cookie entirely, he nuzzles his nose against Sherlock’s and breathes him in. It wasn’t the first time they kissed. And it certainly wasn’t the last. Sherlock nipped at John’s lip and held him tighter to his chest, hands roaming and playing with the buttons on his shirt.

John wondered how on earth he could’ve gotten so lucky.

\--

John awoke with a jerk. It was the middle of the night. Instinctively, he turned over on his side, hoping that maybe his dream wasn’t a dream. Sherlock wasn’t there. Of course he wasn’t. The bed was still made, empty and cold. He threw back the covers and put his head in his hands, holding back a sob.

He’d been doing so well, too. 


End file.
